Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Ghana and from Tokyo.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975.
I was there at the first Throbbing Gristle show in London.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1962 to 1972.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Accra and Paris.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Houston kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1979 at the first Second Layer practice in a loft in South London.
I was working on the harpsichord sounds with much patience.
I was there when Lou Reed started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing Marc Romboy vs. Booka Shade to the grime kids.
I played it at the Roxy.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Cecil Taylor. All the underground hits.
All Todd Rundgren tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Blossom Toes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal disco hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '70s.
I hear you're buying a guitar and an organ and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Gary Puckett & The Union Gap record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a güiro.
I hear that you and your band have sold your güiro and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
Radio Birdman,
Notorious Big And Bone Thugs,
the Bar-Kays,
The Offenders,
The Mummies,
Yellowson,
Arthur Verocai,
Gil Scott-Heron and Jamie xx,
Mad Mike,
Qualms,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Popol Vuh,
Tommy Roe,
The Modern Lovers,
Country Teasers,
Cybotron,
Slick Rick,
Electric Light Orchestra,
The Dirtbombs,
It's A Beautiful Day,
Siouxsie and the Banshees,
The Busters,
Mark Hollis,
The Sisters of Mercy,
The Gories,
F. McDonald,
Manfred Mann's Earth Band,
The Vogues,
Deadbeat,
Masta Ace, Craig G, Kool G Rap, Big Daddy Kane,
Massinfluence,
Peter Gordon & Love of Life Orchestra,
The Electric Prunes,
Jacques Brel,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Ludus,
Rapeman,
Rod Modell,
E-Dancer,
Black Sheep,
The Doors,
The Fortunes,
Skarface,
Banda Bassotti,
Thompson Twins,
Hashim,
Symarip,
Brick,
Roxy Music,
Visage,
Sun Ra Arkestra,
Bobby Byrd,
Boz Scaggs,
Agitation Free,
The Beau Brummels,
The Moleskins,
Oneida,
Newcleus,
The Dave Clark Five,
Bang On A Can,
Wighnomy Brothers & Robag Wruhme,
Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented, Tres Demented.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.